Page 53

Despite feeling boneless and euphoric himself, Lowen couldn’t shake the flicker of concern that lingered at the back of his mind.

He was eager for his trusted physician to examine Helena once they returned to Cornwall—not only to ease his worries about lovemaking, but to find anything that might soothe her during her bouts of illness or help with her persistent fatigue.

Part of him was grateful she felt safe enough to sleep through the monotonous carriage rides, but another part was envious. Lowen couldn’t fall asleep if he tried, and he was fast losing his mind within the confining carriage—made all the more torturous by Helena and her intoxicatingly sweet scent.

He glanced down at her, slumped against him with a peaceful expression on her face, and his attention shifted to her knees.

Without thinking, he carefully lifted her skirts, his fingers brushing the fabric of her petticoats as he examined the damage.

The deep purple bruises stood out starkly through her stockings.

Helena had scarcely mentioned a word, brushing off the pain despite the clear evidence on her body.

Just as she had done the night he first lay with her, she silently bore the pain.

Lowen’s jaw tightened, his frustration rising.

He was angry with himself for his neglect.

Angry with himself for how he had treated her, from the very start.

This time, it would be different, he all but promised himself. And silently, he promised her, too.

They were passing through Staffordshire now, the road flanked by birch, bracken, and endless fields of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. It would be an ideal place to stop and rest—to enjoy the picnic he had packed for them at the last inn, perhaps even stretch their legs.

With a decisive breath, Lowen leaned forward and pounded on the roof of the carriage, startling Helena awake.

“My apologies,” he said with a guilty smile as the carriage came to a rumbling halt. “We’re stopping for a moment. Are you hungry?"

Helena sat up excitedly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Yes, actually. Believe it or not, I dreamt we were attending a magnificent feast."

“I can’t promise you a magnificent feast, but I do have bread and cheese,” Lowen replied, offering her a hand as she climbed down from the carriage.

“Well, that sounds rather magnificent to me,” she said cheerfully, blinking as the sudden sunlight hit her face.

Before she could wander off, Lowen reached back into the carriage and snatched her bonnet from the seat. “If you will,” he drawled, holding it out to her.

Helena accepted it with a grumble. “I suppose my hair’s a bit of a mess.”

“Your hair looks lovely,” he said. “But it’s a warm day, and I’ll not risk you fainting or burning on my watch.”

“I neither faint nor burn,” she sniffed. “In truth, I do quite well in the sun.”

Raising a skeptical brow, Lowen gently poked the tip of her nose. “You’re still red from your last outing with Alden and his wife.”

She waved his hand away with a laugh. “It’s merely a blush because you vex me so.”

Though he knew she was teasing, Lowen couldn’t help but recognize that there was truth in every jest. He had done more than just vex her—he had hurt her in so many ways.

Lowen extended his arm and guided Helena between the trees, leading her into a clearing blanketed with soft waves of wildflowers. Their colors merged into one, swaying with the wind like a painting come to life.

Helena pointed to a patch of purple blooms. “I remember these—heather!” she exclaimed, crouching to lightly caress their delicate tops. “You taught me so much about wildflowers and their uses. I quite enjoyed myself that day. Did you?”

“I did,” he replied truthfully. That had been the day he sought her forgiveness, only to wound her again not long after. Lowen swallowed hard, the guilt rising like bile in his throat.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, looking up at him with a touch of concern. “You look as though you’re in pain.”

Lowen blinked, realizing he’d been frowning. “Nothing’s the matter,” he assured her, forcing a softer expression. “I was merely thinking.”

“Nothing too troublesome, I hope.”

He crouched down beside her, and took her hand in his. The sunlight bathed the field in an incandescent glow, falling on her face and catching in her lapis eyes. In the bright light, they looked paler, like stained glass against the morning sun.

For a moment, he was quiet, simply looking at her.

Helena tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly in concern. “Lowen? Truly, what are you thinking about?”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat, but he knew they could not stay there forever. “You,” he finally admitted. “You’re always on my mind, Helena. More than you know. Even before we wed.”

Her lips parted in surprise, but she remained silent, allowing him to continue.

“I’ve wronged you in more ways than I can count,” he said.

“From the very start, I accused you of things you did not deserve and treated you with harshness. I held you to impossible standards—not as a wife, but as someone I thought had to earn my regard. Yet, in truth, you’ve had it from the moment I first laid eyes on you. ”

“R-really?” Helena asked, her voice trembling.

“Yes, really,” Lowen answered. He exhaled, gathering himself before continuing.

“I thought myself better than you, and at the same time, I believed you far above me. It was a contradiction I would not admit, even to myself. I told myself you were frivolous, tawdry, unworthy of serious regard. But the truth is…”

He averted his eyes; Helena’s crumbling expression was too much to bear.

“I wished, foolishly, that you might notice me as you did the others. And when you didn’t, I judged you for it. I told myself I was above the sort of woman you were, when in truth, I simply wasn’t brave enough to approach you.”

Helena said nothing, only twisting her wedding ring around her finger as she listened.

“I married you thinking I could be the one to change you. Well, more truthfully... to punish you.”

She was quiet a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and calm. “You were unkind to me. Many times.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve revisit those moments more often than I care to admit. I’ve been a terrible husband to you.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve been blind to my own faults and careless with your needs. But when we were apart, I nearly went mad.”

A flush spread across Helena’s cheeks, and she leaned in closer.

“I wrote some things about you I shouldn’t have,” she murmured. “That you weren’t made for love. I… meant it at the time—and I hate that I did.”

Lowen shook his head. “You weren’t wrong. I am hard to love. I was proud, cold… I didn’t think about what it was doing to you.”

“It was cruel.” Helena swallowed. “And…you made me believe I was unworthy of affection. Of decency.”

Lowen bowed his head. “I know. And I’m sorry—for more than the cruelty. I made you doubt your worth, and that’s unforgivable. I let your reputation serve as a shield for my own inadequacies.” He looked at her, the words hard on his tongue. “If I could undo it all, I would.”

For a moment, she appeared as though she were about to speak, but Lowen pressed on.

“I won’t ask for your forgiveness—not when I’ve done so little to earn it. But I swear to you now, I will spend the rest of my days becoming the husband you deserved from the start.”

“A lot of mistakes were made,” she said quietly. “We can’t go back, Lowen. But if you mean what you’ve said… I’m willing to move forward.”

Lowen’s heart danced. The relief was dizzying, like stepping into sun after weeks of rain. He nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

Helena studied him for a moment longer, as if making sure he meant it. Then she smiled. “Good.”

To his surprise, Helena surged forward, throwing her arms around him. The motion knocked him backward, and they landed in a bed of flowers, petals scattering around them. She climbed over him, straddling his hips, her hands braced on either side of his shoulders.

“Now we must make haste to Cornwall!” she declared, and bent down to kiss him, sealing the promise between them.